Once upon a time there was a girl who had two blankets.  Okay confession: I own a LOT more than two blankets, but for the purpose of our story today we are going to talk about two of them. 

The first blanket came to me a long time ago while I was working at a dental office as an RDA.  It was my first job after graduating college and I loved it.  As Christmas came, the staff were generously presented with gifts from the two partnering dentists. We each received a gift card and a big, beautiful box tied in a satin ribbon.  The words on the lid read “Pottery Barn”. 

Are you serious! 

I was 20 years old and certainly did not own anything from Pottery Barn (well, lets face it, I still don’t).  Needless to say, I was very excited.  I opened the lid to reveal a beautiful sheepskin blanket.  A treasure.  I didn’t want anything to happen to that blanket.  It was a prized possession. 

It stayed wrapped in its original box for years, safely tucked away on the top shelf of my closet.  Sometimes I would consider using it – I would pull the box down from it’s perch and stroke the contents inside.  It was so soft! 

“No, I can’t use this” I would think to myself.  “It’s too nice!” 

It sat there for years.  I got married and it came with me.  We moved multiple times and each time came the box with the perfect blanket.  Eventually it made its way out of the box – but was still never used.  I remember one time my husband suggested we take it camping, “it’s so warm” he said, “it would be perfect!” 

I stared at him incredulously, “do you know where this is from!?”  Back on the top shelf it went.  And so is the tale of the first blanket. 

The second blanket is almost as old as the first.  After some years of working as a dental assistant I decided to go back to school.  My Mom helped me pack for the big move and bought me a new ‘bed in a bag’ from Walmart to take with me to my college apartment.  The quilt was a blue and white plaid and sewn with that kind of clear fish wire thread they use. 

It came to school with me.  It held me on those late nights I stayed up studying for exams.  It made a fort when my roommates and I wanted to watch a scary movie.  I got engaged that fall and my husband and I cuddled a LOT in that blanket!  It came with us on picnics, date nights and was perfect for wrapping up in to watch fireworks.  To be honest, while I was down at school, it was the only blanket I had. 

We came back home, got married and the blanket came too.  “Keep this in the car” my husband would suggest during the cold winter months, “I want you to be safe and warm if you ever get into an accident”.  We had our first baby and my mother-in-law came to stay with us.  I pulled out the hide-a-bed for her to sleep on and laid the plaid blanket on top.  More babies came and with that more adventures, more travels and more family movie nights – all in the beloved bed in a bag blanket.   

So why do I tell you the tale of two blankets? 

Sometimes I wonder if I was a blanket – which one would I be?  Which blanket best represents my life? 

And the truth is, I am both.

Sometimes my life feels like that bed in a bag quilt – needed daily, worn out from use, dirty, trampled and falling apart at the seems.  I am stretched here and a little faded there.  And sometimes I look at all the other Pottery Barn blankets in the world and I feel discouraged – reminding myself that I am only a bed in a bag. 

However, with all the use comes all the memories – the hugs, the forts, the cuddles.  That blanket has never been afraid of getting its hands dirty or worried about how much weight it can hold while pulling children across the carpet.  With a lifetime of service comes joy and satisfaction.  The old bed in a bag blanket has been fulfilling the measure of its creation for it’s entire life.  It is a wonderful blanket. 

Last year I got a new duvet cover for our master bedroom.  I decided the bed needed a nice throw at the end to complete the look, and so I reluctantly pulled out the Pottery Barn Blanket.  I carefully laid it across the foot of my bed.  Finally, after all these years – the beloved blanket has been given a place and a purpose.  I still try to take good care of it.  It will never come camping with us.  And I am scared to this day that the dry clean only blanket that has made it all these years is going to be projectile vomited on by our baby.  But I am using it.  I am loving it. 

Sometimes my life feels like the Pottery Barn blanket.  I have value, worth and beauty beyond measure and yet there are times when I tuck myself away on the shelf.  Sometimes I am scared of getting torn or ruined, so I stay in my safe little box. 

I am a daughter of God.  This knowledge is a treasure.  A prized possession.  I think I am perhaps guilty at times of burying my talent, so to speak, as the man in the parable that Jesus taught.  Not always, but sometimes.  Remember, it has taken years – but the Pottery Barn blanket is finally laying across my bed.  It is used and loved and cherished.  It is also a wonderful blanket

And so in the tale two blankets, I find myself reflected in both.  I remind myself that while the day by day of my life may tug at my threads and wear me thin.  There is also nothing more perfect than holding a child in your arms while wrapped in a warm blanket or having pizza smoothie movie night on an old quilt on the living room floor. 

I also remind myself of my infinite worth.  Dieter F. Uchtdorf lovingly reminded the sisters of the church, “You are something divine – more beautiful and glorious than you can possibly imagine!”  Or in other words, you are a Pottery Barn blanket – not meant to be boxed up on a shelf, but created to bring warmth, beauty and happiness to those around you. 

You are a treasure.  A prized possession.  You are a wonderful blanket.